


To Die For

by sonicsora



Category: Brütal Legend
Genre: Body Horror, Character Death, Corpse Desecration, Denial, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Horror, Undead, decomposition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-03-14 23:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13600842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicsora/pseuds/sonicsora
Summary: Ophelia laughed, the cockiness fading for something panicky. Reality was a sharp edge she couldn’t handle. Her grip on Eddie wavered. “You aren’t-”“I’m dead.” He stated firmly as he could, choking on his own tongue. “Youdid this.”Winning has a high price Ophelia isn't sure she's ready to pay. Not when he's unyielding and cold to her touch. Is this the victory she fought so hard for? This emptiness?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written on a whim like... ages ago listening to some weird ass music. Ophelia won, but really, she kinda fucked herself over.

“I wanna be the girl you die for.” She hefted him up, able to steady the limp body in her grasp. Her ink stained fingers left streaks over his exposed skin. Trails of the sea left over the musculature of Eddie’s arms in Ophelia’s wake as they moved together. The couple danced to music only they could hear. 

Well, as she moved. Eddie was feeling a bit stiff today. Ophelia cupped his cheek in her hand, dark eyes taking in the blank expression on his face. 

“Give me a smile.” Her grip tightened, life jolting through his body, eyes fluttering open. His heart jerked awake, alive, in a panic. 

“Ophelia? What-?” His words were slurred, awkward. He seemed to forget just how to speak. He hadn't been asleep that long, how could he forget?

“Smile.” She pinched his cheek forcefully. Eddie winced a little, boneless in her grasp. He didn't push back or rebuke her, that much frustrated Ophelia. She pinched again, her breath shaking. "Smile for me." 

“I’m dead. Can’t you leave well enough the fuck alone?” 

Ophelia laughed, the cockiness fading for something panicky. Reality was a sharp edge she couldn’t handle. Her grip on Eddie wavered. “You aren’t-” 

“I’m dead.” He stated firmly as he could, choking on his own tongue. “ _You_ did this.” 

“You’re fine.” As long as she stayed close he would be fine. Her voice started quivering, her grip loosening slightly. “I- I didn’t hurt you. I’d never…” 

“You always hurt me.” His expression was grim, sharp. Disappointment stung so much more than his rage ever had. “You killed me, for what? Are you happy you finally won?” 

“You betrayed me! I deserve to win! You left me to rot!” 

His eyes rolled into the back of his head, sightless as he went limp again. He was cold, he was unyielding. The life she breathed back into him gone once again. He was just her limp empty puppet. A reminder of her _win_.

A reminder of her **_loss_**.

Ophelia clung desperately to the corpse, bodily shaking uncontrollably. She sunk to the ground, the dance forgotten in the heavy silence.


	2. Chapter 2

The next time she _wakes_ him up (not brings him to life, _wakes_ him), Eddie gives her a pitying look. 

Ophelia wants to slam his head against the ground for that. She wants his rage, his fear- not his pity. She squirms closer to him, the two spread out across the damp earth around the sea. She presses close enough to curl tightly against him. 

“You keep doin’ this…” He can’t even raise his arms in the moment, he’s just limp in her grasp. “You realize your army has left you to rot just like Ironheade did?” 

“I told them to leave.” She corrects hotly, nails digging into his back. “I needed time with you. It’s different.” She knows the difference, she knows where she stands with her army. They are loyal, they are loving, they would never leave her. 

“You’re fuckin’ delusional.” He breathes out slowly, his breath reeks of decay and rotting flowers. “You need to let go.”

“No.” Her attempt to sound commanding comes off as petulant. She buries her face against his neck, “I can’t.”

“Ophelia, let go.” He manages to shakily raise a hand up, resting it against the back of her head. He’s weak but manages a semblance of an embrace. That much sends warmth rolling through her, relief and oddly, grief. She can't pinpoint why. 

“I hate you.” 

“I loved you once. Given my current circumstances I can’t really muster much of anythin’ right now.” 

“You aren’t dead.” 

“I’m very dead.” She can feel the pity in his voice now. “Deadest in fact.” He pauses, he pauses too long as if losing himself. Before he comes back together, the light flickering on within him. “I win the most dead award now. So your army can go fuck itself.” 

She smacks his back in frustration. She wants to scream at him, but finds her voice so, so, so small. “I hate you.”

“I love you.” He pats her shoulder gently. “You fuckin’ trash heap of a human.” After that he goes still again. Ophelia buries her face against his shoulder desperately. 

She is alone. 

This isn't what she wanted. This isn't what she wanted at all. 

"Please." She pleas softly, only moving away so she can cup his face in her hands, staring down at his cold face. "Please." 

He doesn't come back this time. He'll never come back. That thought alone causes Ophelia to quake, hot tears blinding her as she weeps over her victory.


	3. Chapter 3

She had finally placed him in the waters, after excuse, after excuse, after inane hesitation, and false reasoning that Eddie belonged only to _her_. Ophelia had finally given him to the sea. This would be the only way to truly keep him forever. 

She had won. 

She had won. 

She had won.

She deserved this. 

This victory was meant to be sweet. She wanted that sting of sweetness against her teeth when she bit down, she wanted to feel something again. She wanted Eddie. Even if he pitied her, even if he hated her, she deserved him. She plucked him from the branches. 

She brought him from life to death. An empty puppet whose strings she needed to pull. He would be cold, but he would yield to her, he would look at her in awe. He would love her again. 

She deserved him. Eddie Riggs belonged to her. 

It turned out the sea was unpredictable even to its finest creation. Even to its most loyal, it would not yield the results she wanted.

He was not hers. He was no ones. Eddie Riggs belonged to no one. Not even the sea. Not even when the shores welcomed him. 

He was agony wrapped and bound tightly in broken flesh. He rejected the sea as much as it rejected his treacherous demonic blood. 

Eddie was a hundreds voices all at once. Voices of the drowned, voices of those waiting at the bottom of the sea, voices of those wronged, of those whose lives were cut short on these very shores, the voices of man, child, woman and those in-between. 

He could not stop weeping black water. He was rapidly shifting, bones, flesh, blood, water- unstable, unruly, undead and wishing for the release. 

 

Ẁ̷̨̡̲̬̮̖̜͙͂̓͒͐̎̀̂͗͋h̶̼͖̙̜̽́́̓͘͟͠͠ÿ̪̥̥̭̻͚͓̣̐̅̌͟͞ w̴̻̬̺͕̲̓̀̆̇̚̕͟͢͠͡ó̷̮̺̣͈̹̲̎̌̀̇̚n̪͎͚̩̝͛͂̃͒̏̓̈́̓͜͟͡'̡͎̱̳̖̮͙͆̌̈͗͒̃̚ͅt̸̤͖̭͉̘̑͌̿͌̚͢͟ y̛͇̼̦̪̹̮̝͕̔̌̾̍ͅo̡̼̠͖͖̓͗̂̊͒͊̌̅̑̓ͅṷ͚̮̞̦̋̈̍͛̆̉͘͞ l̨̧̫̤͖̻̣͛͗̓̒̈́̒ę̺͉̰͎̻̥̅͒̈́̈̚͟͢͡t̸̢̺̝̭̗͉̂̇́̈́̊̾̕̕͟ͅ m̷̢̩̱̼͎͈͚͙̣̐͗̀̆́̏̚͞͝͞ȩ̷̲̭̠̝͓̺͈̗͒̔̏̒͗̔̓̆͌ d̤̜͖̠͙̎̍̎͋͐̽̾į̴͕͎͕͉̟̳̪͉̋̏̃̉̚͠ͅė͎̪̠͈̜͇̦̩͌͛̔̑͋̕͘͢͠?̸̳͚̪͚̘͖̀̍̋̽̋̕

 

“Eddie-“ She reached a hand out, surprised at how hard she was quivering. “Eddie, I need you.” He shook his head rapidly, chanting in a mixture of voices. Ophelia could pick out her own in cacophony of sound and bitterness. He was so many things so many angry little things bundled together. 

The spark of life she craved was warped into something Ophelia couldn’t handle. Even the pity that burned her deep down would be preferable to the outright grief. She wanted Eddie, not... this. 

 

̣̖͎̜̝̮͐͌͗̑̏̐͝S̶͉͉̭̙̹̟̺͚͔̓̀͂̃̅̇͟͝͠t̢̢̝̗̲̪̻͛̃̈̽̊͌̕̕͢ơ̴̹̲̤̦̹̈́͊͒̓͆͘͟p͈̙̜̬͚̎͛̽̃͂̋͘͘͟͢͞͝ S̩͚̥͎̏͋͑̅͆͐̾̓̚͘͟T̴͎͉̞̼͕̹̀͌̑̓͑̎͘̕̚͟O̧̦͕̗͇̔̾͒̄̔͊̚͟P̸̼͇̥͔̩̜̫̜̮͇̓̎̀̓̕ S̞͚̫̺̝̅̔̈́̍͗͒͆̾͘T̶̢̢̪̜̹̪̼̦̊̾̆̆̎̇͒͠Ơ̶̯̱̜̘̫̍̀̈̈͗́̀̎͌P̡̙̜͍̖͓̾͗̀̓̋̃̚͜͟ s̡̹̟̗̤̍̇̒͗̔̃͜͠͡t̢̢̙̥͇̩̋̇̄̍͒̌̓̕͠o̱̥̙͈̯̽̒̌̇͑̄̏͟͢͝ṗ̰̼̘͎͕͙̍̈̏͘̕

 

“I need you!” 

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ẙ̢̨̢̟̹̩̟͙͚̙͐̑̊̌̓͘͡ọ̧̺͉̩̟͙͖̥̅͆͗̌͘ư̴͍̣͎̻̹̻̤̼͔͊́̅͑͑͛͟͡'̺͓͓̬̺̙̞͗̍͊́̇̕ͅṟ̵̱͔̳͍͖͉̇̽̉̀̾̃͐͌̂͑͢͜ě̢̠̲̯̤̽͛͑̌̚͜ ḥ̼̗̮̳͎̹͑̅͊̈́̅͜ͅṷ̶̡̗͚̭̹͍̼̹̥͂̈͛͐̂r̴̢͙̼̺̰̖̮͉̝̩͒̓̑̏̇t͎͍̺̼̃̅͂̿͟į̶̙̪͚͍̥͉̹̎͗͋̍͘ͅn̤̳̦̝̦̳̰̭̋͆̽͐̆͘͘͞ͅģ̷͚̙̖̥̮̞͌̔͞͠ m͔̠͚̩̹̠̒̂̍͑̐̏̇̋e̷͈̩͖̹̖̦͙̥͍̽́̎̉͝  
̵̛͍̺̫͍̥̯̪̾̇̃̾̅̈̐͘͠y͉̝͍͈̍̄̃̌̚͜o̡͇̗͔̠̯̳̩͌̾͋̓̑̐̓̋͊͠ư̶̧̠̬̝̞̣̝̣̝̤̽̅̐̒̾̐͝͞'̺̭̲̯̼͇̪̼̈̂̆̿͒̌͘͟͝͠ř̛̬͎̥̻̞̓̌̑ę̸̛̙͈͚͈̌̽͒̀̉̐̐ͅ h̴̛̝̣̼͍̪̗̹̽́̽̇̕͢ų̝̫̹͇̜́̀͌͌̉ŗ̸͙͎̗̯͕̠̯̓̈͐́̔͜͝͠ͅt̖̝̭͈̥̗͉͙͒̿̐̃̎̆͗͒̓̕i̵͉̬̝̠̹͎̍̓̈̎͆̏̆̽͜͟͟n̷̝̙̟̹̠̈́̐͂̋̿͝g̴̲̖̩͎̦̮͚̦̅̒̽͊̄͡ t̢̠͚͎̝̹̉͗̎̾͢͠h̡̰̠̗̺̣̤̾̄̒̄͛͘e̡̯̳̣̟̝͍̬̲̊̈́̉̓̋̽̓̚̕͠ s̡͇̤͙̠̣̲͂̏͊̕͢͟e̶̳̺̭͍̦̎̒̿͛͋̎́̎̚͡a̷̼̺͖̞̲̖̳̥͖̾̈̂͆͐̎̂͘͜  
̨̩̲̩͈̦̌̃̃̂y̸̡̦̟͚̭̆̋̓̓͛̾͡ö̵̟̞̞͍͇̼̳̃̆̊̽ u̢̢͔̫͚͎̩̲͑̓̇̄̓͌͋͂͘ ṙ̸̫͇͍͔̝̿͛̐͐͐̈́̔̈e̴̢̩̥̗̲̫͛̔́̆͒̂̾̊̕͠ ĥ̷̥͈̻̰̩̥̒́̊̆̎ u̶̻͈̜̩̳̞͈͊̾͗̑̋̐͘ r̸̢̨̬̱̫̼̰̤̺̂̽̋̾̚͝ t̡͍̯̰̠̭̬͚̲̆̀͘̚͡͞ͅ i̩̤̲͉͉̓͛̆͟͢͝͝ n̡̯͍̫͔̖͈͗͆̾̃̀ͅ ğ̙̝̟͖̔̑̎͗̊̒͗̓͜ m̬̤̼̬͎̹̍́͐́͋̀̈̐̐̚͢͜ė̷̡̪̫͎̐̄͗͐̽͢͝  
͈̘͎̙̞̮̬͒̍͋̒̏̓͌̚y̴͓̟͎͚̱̻͔͋̓́̓̑ͅ o͖̣͖̫̪̟̘̅̀̊̋̋͒̅̕͟͝͠ ư̢̡̼̲̲̻̣̫͐͌̓͛̋̊͊͘͘͟ͅ å̱͚͖̰̏̈́̅̆̿͛͘͜͝͡ ŗ̧͉͚̠̮̜͚͕̓̓̐͆̈́͟ ė̢̨͉̞̝̪̹̈͆̈̊̓͘͟͟͜͞ h̷͚̱͖͇̝̗̾̎̒͗̓̂̿͘̕͜ ǔ̢̹̖̫̝͍͑̄̽͌̽͋͝ r͈̪̝̭̩͐̔͒͒̈́͜ ť̶̪̳͔̥͈͇̖̣͚̘̉̇͂͝ i̵͕͕̪̮̖̍̓͌́͂̈́̿͜͡͞ n̵̦̭͖̗̦̒̐͛̋͌͢ g̶̛̟̻̪̖͙̑̎͋̚͜ m̡̲̲̠͎̤̰̠͋͋͒̔͋͊͘͟͞ e̵̢̫̺̲̰̱̩͉͂̊͒͂̕̕͞  
̡̣̪͉͇͈̖̌̈́͌̔͛̕̕͟͠͠  
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“I’m helping you.” She snarled, moving forward ignoring the way her instincts screamed at her to back off, to flee. Her mind and body were at war with one another. She stepped forward, placing her hand on his arm only to be pushed away by the man. 

Eddie barred his teeth, finally looking at her. His eyes were fogged over, flicking as endlessly as the rest of him. Each word spoken came from a different voice screaming all at once. 

Her ears were ringing as each voice spoke each syllable, each sound, each word. 

 

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Ẉ̼̩̣͚̞̤̮̓̿͛̅͋̏ḩ̛̩͇̦̬̻̼̖͑̉̒̑͘͢͝ÿ̧̢̲̪͖͕̃͗͂͂̚ c̷̲͖̞̟̼̬̝̹̍̆͛̚a̷̤̳̗̔͑̿͟͢͡n̴̛̫̬͍̹̋͂͂̓̃͢'̴͖̟̣͔̘̣̑̊̇̃͞t̸̩̹̱͇̝̥̔̊̈́̾͡ͅ y̶͎̖̺̩̩̼̥̽̈̎̓͊͛͜o̶͙̞̙̥͓̠͇̟͂̽̌̃̃͞ṷ̵͖̯͓̜̣͋͋̃̂́̌͂̈͞ l̸̡̖͍̤̞̜̳͉̎̏̔̑̔̋͢͝e̖̭̣̣̅͛̓̽̒̎͆̀ͅẗ̯̮̮͙͍͖̯̥̓̽̍̂͐͜͜ m̛̫̟͉͈̥̲̫̿̿̉̿͂ë̴̦̫͙̘̖̪̆̋͆̾̌̈́͘ g̷̨̞̟̗͕̹̪̺̙͌̔͗̄̕o̧̳̪̦̲̮̖̬̿͒͐̊̿̆̓̂̚͢?̴̯͕̦̣̬̬̟͚̰̈́̎̽̍͌̔͆͢͡  
͕̬̖̩̰̝̘̌̅̉̐͋ĺ̵̢̢̯͙̲͖̋̿̒͑͑͘͘e̡̳͍͖̲̞̓̎͐̽̚͢͞ͅt̛̲̳̣͉̯̽̇̋̕͜͞ g̸̡͇̮̱͈̭̑̉͆̊̈́́͊̉̂̒ö̸͍̱͇̱̟̹́͒̽̀̎͋̈́̚͢  
͚͓̘͖̙͉͇̹̔̒͒̒͊͆̃͢͠l̷̡̟̮͚͉̥̑͊̉̄͛̀͝e̵͓͈̳͕̗̩̜̟̔̓̀̿ͅt̶̩̣͇̺͎͓̝̗͑͒͛̈́̍̏͗̂͢  
̸̧̡̳̬͈̳̖͙̖͆̔͐͞͡g̡̲͇̮̩̦̺̈́̂̀̊̎ȫ̵͎̟͖̻̙̠͑̂͌͊͂͡  
̛̛̦͙͚͍̬̆̓̏̎͐̇͡ ḻ͉͖̬͖̗̺̄͛͌̂͡͝è̡̧͚̙̭̻̭̪̀͌̊̆̈́ţ̨̨̧͚̫̤̏̋̃́̓̓͐͢͟͡ g̶̦̠̲̣̭̼̀͂̆͑͂̌͗͒͜͜͝ö̡̟̳̫͓̭̥̏̏̊͋̏͟  
̢̡̱̱̪͎͍̬͓̝̈̉̆̔̌͘͞  
̬̘͈̙͙̤̘͉̔̿̎͞ĺ͖͓͇̒́͜͜͞ͅę̸̛͚̦̬͓̩̜͖̾̇̃̃̔̄̌̍͘͢t̵̤̙̻̥̤̗̩͓̓̿̅̆̅̒͂ ģ̵͔̟̻̟͚͙̫̍̓̊̃̃͜͝o̸͔̦̭̬̩̹̤͗̇̓̃̄̒̿̚  
̨̹̦̤̟̤̓͂̍̎  
̡̺͍̱̬͈̠̫͋͌̔̋͊̌̀̚͠l̷̢̼̳̯̟̖̳̘̝͌̒̀̊̍̌̄͘ẻ̤̦̥̙̗̙̰͙͇́͆̔͐̍͢͠͞t̬̝̖͔̝̼̜̆̊̑̒͛̎̏͜͢ ğ̡̹͎̠̻̖̐̏̿͌̈̆ő̪̦͙͓͉͍̼͔̩̓̄͐̾́͘͞  
̬̝͍̝̺̞̥̤̙͆̈́̑̈́̚̕͟͞  
̪̜̰̦̲̈́̓̋̉̾̿̾͜͠͞l̴͎̤̖̪̰̦̼̞̉̐̆̋̕̚e̜̮͙̖̜͎͔̻̻̓̓̉̅͊̈́̂͌̚t̸̢̺͖̹̭̟̐͆͑͂̀͘͜͟͢ g̶͓͕͓͉͇̻̅̉͂̾͑͡ǫ̡͙̳͖͓̜͇̯͙̌̍̅͗͝͠  
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ẙ̧̜̤̞̘̑̐͌͋̈̋̚͞͠ǫ̸̫̼̲̟̪̮̩̀͐̚͝ͅͅu̡̦̦̞͈̠̳̗͍̐͗̑̿͋ d̨̢̧̼͕̩̺̥͈̈͌͐̅̾͒ị̡̰͖̠̣̳͋̃̒̔̐̇͆͋͢͠͞d̡̨̛͉̠̬̼͓͇̼͚͋̀̃͊̚̚ t̵̳̯̻͕͙̭͖̋̄͊̑͆͛̔̚h̢̩͕͕̺̆̔̏̉̐̾͋͟͠͡į̴̢͇̟͇̊̊͗̾͂s̪̲̜͇̭̺̗̬̑͂͛̊͌͘  
̷̧̤̲͖̖̹̽̔̾̔́̉̋͞y̸̨̧̖̣̟̜̓̏͗̊͘̕o̵̦̳̙͖̺̼̙̲̹̽̃̌̓̅̌̍͟ṳ̸̬̠̜̼̮͕͍̓̕͟ d̡͎̮͖̱͎͕̺͂͒̏̽̔͆͑î̞͓͚͎̳͎͒͑̈̄͞͠͞d͚͎͕̟̱̄̆͌̎͛͞ ţ̵͙̹͙̠̈͗̓̊̓́͘h̶͈̹̳̫̱̦͖̔̓̏̽͊̒̚i̢̤͔̦̜̻͒̈̓͐̉̍̚͘͠s̶̘̝͔͇͉̫̉͑̄̿͡͠  
̴̧̜̟̗̰̬͉̜̝̈́̉̽̓̆͊͑y̨̭̝͖̫̯͚̬̟̭̋̋̈́͛̎͐̂̑o̺̬̣̟̻͉̼̿̋̚͘̕͟ư̧̮̼̰͕̱̩̭̓͑͐̊̃͆̕̕͝ ḓ̵̛͓̭̳͈͊̐̏̿̾̾̕̚͢i̵̩̠͕͉̠͕͕̣̪̅̾͑̇̆͋̆̐͑͘d̵̨̦̯̰̤͕̓̔̃̓̉ t̡̢̟̥͇͖͕͓̍͂̍̈́̃̐ḥ̢̱̭͇͓̖̥̙͆̍̈́͐̈̓̇̆̾͠ỉ̷̠̬̱̯̦̯̦̫̼̟͆͌̓̑̎̆s̷̛̝̲̰͙̝̖̐̍̐̒͐̉̈̚͢  
̷̨̢̥̜̞͍̼̱̲̃̄̈̚͘  
̡̺̯͍̺̹͉̠̞͐̓͌̂̽̒̑ͅy̛̪͈̦͓̥͎͆͗̍ͅo̷̝̙̼̱̙͑̏̍̎͜͢͞͡u̴̢̘̲̯̥̠̬̟͛̈́̋̈́̎͢͡d̸̢̧̜͈͈̫̎͗̓̔̉͟i͚̮͕̟͚̺͗̑̾̃̂͆͗̀ḑ̡̧̛̖̼͖̰͊̈͆͒̌̕͟͝͡ t̡̺͖̲͓͈͔̩̣̦̒̓̌̅͡͡h̛͕̱͕̲̘̻͉̾̾̎̊͘i̸̢̠̩̳͖̔̎̊̂̐̎͂̐͟͝͡ͅs̸̛̩̯͎͓̗̘̼͇̑̓̃̂͂̇  
̺̩̺̜̼̞͂̈̏̍̿͊̾͞͞  
̨̨̼̦̠͙̹̳͉̌̊͋̓̆̕̚͢͡͞ẙ̢̡̳̘̜̻̙̱͚̏̏͒͐͜o̧̡͚̱͍̜̙͂̀̒̈́́͗͑͢u̷̡͚̝͚͙̯̻̮̲͂̂͌͆̓́̋̚͘͟͡ D̷͙̯̱͙̠͇̅̈́̓̅̄͜͝I̶̡̡̻͔̤̟͍̩̻̰͛͊͒̌͗͗̔̓͠D̛̜̗̳̪̩́̄̎̇̇͊́̚͟͞ T̷̨͉͎̤͇͚̑͒͑͘̚͘͡ͅḢ̫̞̯͓̻̜̗͍̐͊͑̉̕͟I̞̜̖͈͕̘̘͌̄͆̈̿̊͠Ṡ̛̙͓̱̬̤̬̪̾͊̅͗̒̂̚ T̘̩̣̮̪̝̗̉̍̔͒͛̚Ŏ͇̹̤̟̞̭̃͐͡͠ͅ M̵̡̱̖̭̤̪̙̮̎͑̉̇̚͟͞E̟̙̰̝͇̳͗̽̅̉̀̾̃̈̊͞?̵̬̦̣̱͍̋͊͋̃͠  
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Ophelia found herself covering her ears trying to shield herself from Eddie's voices. He stumbled forward on unsteady legs. Dark eyes wide and wild as he pointed at her. Ophelia hunched into herself, eyes wide as spoke. 

 

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w̧̡̩̞̗̹̦̮̩̽͂̈̆̋͋̓̚͠h̨̢̛̫̘̰͂̋̓̕y̨͕̜͚̤̣͈̣̅̔͛̎̈́̌͆̀͛̃ ĉ̵̢̮̦͓̰̲̂̇̑̏̈͜a̷̟̮̪̟̘͓͋̓̎͒ṋ̙̹̯̠̺̂͂͗̆̈̂͠͞'̛̯̼͕̭͓̝͖̈͆̾̌̃͂t̷̺̖͙͎̗̤̻͙͖̳̊̋͋̾͗̆ y̙͔͚̩͚̺̬͊̓͘͘͜͜ờ̸̡͓̼͎̻͉̩̬̺̿̔̊̚͢u̫̠̗̣̹̻͋̌̏̒̅̉̌͗͘͟͜͢ l̛̝͓̳̦̹̬͑͌̂͂̍͢͠͝e̷̛͍͎͇͙̍̒́͘͟͡͡a̶̢̹̬̬̝̱̼̞̾̋̋͌͛̅͛̓͘͟͡v̴̧̢̼̜̟͇͓̫̓̊͌͐̅͟͡ę̷͈͉͙͉͕̤͗̎̏̌́͒̉̓͜͜͞ w̩̬̟̘͓̫̉͗̈̓̾̚e̸̡̺̘͔̠͐̉͛̓͒͋̅͗̿͘l̷̛̳̞̮̠͔͔̰̣̬̩̀͊̆̉͂́̋ľ̥͕̙͚̃̏͗̎͋͟ͅ ḙ̸̡̧̗̪̦̃̌̋̓̆͘͘n͎͎̘̺̘̲̯̋̉͒̈́͘͢ͅo̴͎̟̯̮̱̩̻̥̦͗́̊̀͑̊̕ư̵̳̦͓̘̭̝̹̔̓͒̽͠͝g̡̟̲̣̝̤͖̳͇̃̌̄́̆̿̆ͅh̷̡̧͚̩̪͍̗̦͇̎̿̈̇̅̇͢͡ t̨̢̛̞̭͙̺̒͊̎̆ḩ̷̰̼̲̹̥̳̀̉͒̍͡ͅe̵̛̼̬̙̼͕̜͎̦̒̋͒̋͜ f̢̩̥̣̺̤̻̘̺̆̄̏̾͋̓͠ư̹̦̫̹̫͔̦̩̠̂̑̄͒̚͘c̷̢͈͖̞̗̘͛͋̓̐̓͠ͅk̢̩̤̪̙̱̏̈́̎͛́̏͟ a̲̳̬͇̱͓͕͛͑̉̉̄͛͞l̷̯̣̥̺̘̱̫̄̏̾̚͟͟͞ơ̢̢͈̮͎̲͙̠̮̑͛̄̇̉͝ñ̞͉̹͍͓̟͙̿̄͒̾̐̓͛͝e̵̡͈̰͓̦͖͈̳̓̑̅͘̚͟ͅ?̶̪͈͙̻̳̫̲̎̀̈̂̏̈́͘͜͜͜͞ w̡̛̝̟̟̱̹̽̐̅̾̒͜h̢͎̟̻͚͖̰͍̿͗͊̿̾̐̈͗̔̔͢ͅy̵̨̞̫͔̲̞̮͂͌̽̿̕ ą̸̰̳͕̘̬͙͇͈͛̑̈́̆̏̔̿̈́̏͘r̢̪̭̟͓̮̩͔͊̀͑̄͑͊͊͌̂͟͢͡e̶̡̺̝̦͖̳̩̟̍̿̿͒̌̎̾̆̅ y̟̥͖̥̾̇͊͌̂͢͡͡ǫ̢̛͚̬̩̝̜̓͂͆̾͊͛̉͜u̪̮̮͕̬̥͙̭̾̊̈̍́̈̑͟͝͡ d̨͚̲̫̫͍̄͊̆̋̽͋̌͡ō̶͈̥͔͔̱̦̂͛̉̂̈̇̆͢͠ͅi̛̳̯̻̠͖̾̑̋̊͜͢͟͠ñ̴̨̡̙̣̪̠̠͇̔͐͊̿͘͢͝͠͝g̸̩̹̙̰̘̲̞̥̎͛̆͊͠ ẗ̷̨̪̹̦̻̙͍̭́̑̅̊̐̚h̵̡̥̹̲̼̯͗͋̅̎̅̎̚ï̝̹̥̹͍̑̿̊̈́͢͢͜ś̢̻̻̜̯̫̪͖̭̹͛͌͌̋͗͐̆̓͆?̷͍͕̪̹͍͈̳͒̑̋̐͐̚̕͢ Ỵ̴̢̛̙͓̟̄̏͌͒͌̓̂̚ǫ̴͎̘̲͎͖̰̗͗̂̔̈̚̚͢͞ͅư̛͕͖̳̯̦̜͙̙̐̇̿̐̓͘͡ p̸̧̡͍̞͓̊̆́͊̑̑͂a̡̛̻͚̺̯͚͙͊̇̔̈̉͘͢t̟͕̫̦̱̜͍̩̲͋̋̅̈͐͟ḣ̬͙̳̯͇̋̊̕͜͞ẽ̶̯͎̟̦͋̿̌͘͢͡͝ẗ̴̢͇͕̜̲̤̪́̄̈́̊̓h̡͈̦̜̫͔͕̿̌͗͋̚ͅḯ̴̜̘̥͈̟͓̖̰̈́̀͊͆̍ͅĉ̷͕̗̥̠͎͖͋̍̎̊̆͛͘͜͡ p̧͖̺̲̭̀͂̄͊̈̈̈͛̃͝i̵̱̲̤̲̅͐̾̑͗͗͜͡ȩ̦̣͉̟͎̈́̉́͂͡͞͡ͅc̡͚̙̜͔̥͎̼̈͗̐͒͊̐ę͎̙̙̠̤͎̩̩̒͋̇̊̎̂́̐͌͗͢ ò͔̲̜̦̬̥̈́͆̎͆̍͆͘͝f̴̢̤̜͔̯̬̤̪̆̉͊̏̿͗͂͛͡ s̴̹̤̩͇͔͎͌̔̀̊͌̅̉̒ͅh̢̜͉͉͚͎̖̪̻͆͊̽̿͟͠i̯͇͚̩̜̼̠̿̈͑͑̒̒̑̿̓̕͟t̰̙̼̩̭͓̳́̊̍̑̎͐̊̄͑.̧̼͓̘̱̝̬̑̐̔̒̿̐̃̅͜ Ẏ̸͚̯̙͍͍̞̰̑͐͑̑̋͡͞͠o̵̞͔̗̜̥̙̭͌̋̚͘͟͟͠͠͞ṵ̸̢̢̖̤̝̜̤̒̋͋̓̒̎̊ c̶̢͖̩̤̰̯̗͂͛̎̊̀̽͢͠ͅȁ̧̡̼̲͉͓̯̩̠̈́̐̍́͗̅n̤͎̬͚̮̼̞̠͂̅̏̈́̂̃͑͞'̛̺̗̙̪̩̣͎̐̆͗̄͛̂t͙̝̘̩̺̟̓̈́̈̋̈́̿͘ j̖̜̮̝͔̹̝͔͒̾̂̑̓̅u̖̳̱̪̯̬͖̜̰̬͐͋͑̂̆͡s̴͙̥͍̥̬̻͈͈͙̿͑̒̐̿͢ţ̶͎͚̲̲̥̓̾̈́̍̉͂̓̀̍͟͜ w̷̫̘̱̥̱̦͆̃̉͂̓͑̂͟͟͡i̸̥̝̫͓̟̹̼͆̄͋̀͑͘͜n̶̡̨̺̹͔̪͎͕̂̍̈̔̃̅̚͜ ả̵͇̰̰̥͉̀́̓̾̾̓͟͞n̵̘̻͓̣̳̻̙͓̼̰̿̆͌̔͋͋d̸̢͓̜̬̜́̌̈́͂̕͟ a̻̣͔̹͈̺̼͙̋̐͗͒̿̐c̵̤̞̞̠̹̯̹͕̋̎͌̽̊̋̾͞͡͠c̴̡͔̹̼͚̋̋̿̽̿̏̈̃ẻ̩̣̻̫̟̜͈̰͆̄̃̐̉͠p̡̧̢͎͖͍̪͇̾͐͒̂̽͘͡t̫͔̹̱̫͐̿̈̅͟͡ͅ y̷̘͇̳̤͗̒̑̽̏͌̉͜͜o̢̹̣̖̫̼̰̥̭̐̃̈̔͛͝͠ų̶̢̗̠͇̻̖̲̇̏̽͌̾͛r̻̬̟͎̖͛͌̈́̈̿̃̎̃͌ v̻̟̣̰͎̜̯͗͌̑̽̑̓̏͢͝i̸̱̯̠̘͎̰͎̰͎̒͊͛̃̍͗͘͠c̴̣̟͇̺̫͖͕̬͔̳̆̓̒̂̈́̀̓̾̕t̸̖̱̥͎͖̠̜̘͈̋̅̓̂͡o̲̙͖̙͍͉̍̓̆̽̍͐̃̅͡r͇͎̪̱͋̋̔̊͌̑̓̿̍͟͞ý̬̘̦̥̒̓̈́͊̓͟͜͠?̧̡͉̬̟̼̱̻̞̌͊̍͐̿͝ Ý͓̩͖̻̣̓̈́̚̚ơ̸̙̜͚̙̟̗͍̮̒́̀̋̈́͆͘͠͡ͅų̴̭̼̼͕̲͇͇̥̂̍͛̎̄͞ h̛͔̱͉̯͓͔̮̬͈͊͐̽̽̏͘͡ą̷͎͕̦̗̻̞̯͂̋̌̌̏͆̍v̸̡̩̹̥͍̤͓̲͆̂̒̒̂̆͗͢͡e̯̮̯͎̩͓̱̭̥̅̍͆̾͐̾͛ t̸̡̳̜̮̄̅̈́͆̂̋̏͟ó̜̩̩̬̳̹͍̀̋̎̉̌͌͝ d̸͕͉̘͓̫̜̜͈̠͊̆͐̒̇̄̑r̥̗̤̥͖̳̘̪̹̖̔̀̆̊͛̃͒͊ă̧̢̯̞̝̇̇̊͘g̴̤̘̬̺̳͛͑̉́̏̐͛̾̚ i̷̛̻̩̯̩̪̿̏͛͘͡ẗ̵̡̢̡̮̞̤̰͍̭̦̊̀͋̍̇̕͡͡͞ o͙͉̣̱͙̤̳͌͑̒̕͟u̷̡̪̼͔̓̇̓̌̈́͆͊̐͜͟t̸̢̨̗͖̭͔̯͔̔̑̏̆̆͗́̀̕͞?̶̧̩̜̣͇̏̇͋̅̿͘  
̡̢̢̙̼̣̾̉͊̏́̇͠  
̶̛̺̲̹̱̘̈́̋̿͂̇̏͆͘͠Į̵̜͖͇̩̉̔̌̐͡'̶͎̳͖͔̤̂̽̀̆͜͠m̨̛̹̼̰̗̯͌̇̎͘͘͜ ň̖̠͖̜̤̥̼̪̹̎̉͝ͅỏ̷̭̗͚̘͉͍͈̈̿̀͛̎͜͡t̸̨̞̬͍̪̭̍̏̉͂͆͝ a̷̡͇̜̘̰̗͚̙̗͂̋̍̉̔͆̐̐͗͘ t̷̡̲͖̬̜͚͇͔̟̝̄͛͆̍͑ö̜̞̙̗̟̓̂̋̅̑̅͋̇͟͠ͅy̴̛͖̟̤̗͇̖͙͖͊͌̾̈́̽̋̔̔͜ͅ.̢̢̙̳̜̙̫͉̺̠̈͆̐̽͘̚  
̛̪̘̰̪̳̙̖͉̎̇͆̄  
͎̟͇̭̰͙̳͒̏̑̌̇̓̄̚͟͜͞Ḭ̰̯͕̻̘̙̠͑̉̓̿̌́́͞'̸̻̬̥̳̲̥̬̈́̒͐͒̕͟͜͢͞m̸̨̞̻̩̞̻̺͖̠̖̓̈̎͋͌͊͡͞ n̷̨͍̗̙̤̮̲̼̫͋̓̿̎̈́o̧̩͍̫̼̩̖͑̏̉̑̅̂͘͢͠͡͠t̷̝̤̮͂̊̀̈͗͊̂͜͝ͅ á̢̧̡̺͙̤͇̊̿̈́͒͝͝͝ ţ̵̭̗͕̳͈̗͕͆̑̅̄̄̊ͅǫ̧̢̪̺̘̩̀̆̆͛̓̉͠y̷̻̦͎̜̩̞̘̫̓́̈̄̃͐̌̎ͅ  
̢̡̱̙̜̪͈͓͒̓̔̄̈́̚  
̵̧̲̜̩̅̌̓̃́͝ͅw̡̛͈̪̲̜̟̆̔̆͊͆̇͗̕͜h̢̺̼̞̖̜͛͂̆̑̏͆̍͒͞ͅy̧̛͈͔͖͉̳͛̈̏̀͊̈͐̔͡  
̵̨̘̜̞̲̖̓̎̐̐̐͋͐͒̕  
̶̩̹̹̮̅̓̉̅͑̒͟ẇ̜͍̬͍̬̲̞̇͋͒̆̒̚͡͝h̛͈̖̰̗̰̲̆̂͑̍͋͟ͅy̛͙̗̻̙̐̾͑̉͂͐͟  
̵̣̼͎͓̦͉̠̖̯͊̎̀͊͗̇̀̚̕w̵̹̣̦̻̖̺̓̎̓̚͘͟ͅh̳̹̮͇̯̃̑̂͗̄y̶̧̩̘͙̙͇̦͒̑͂̑̚͜͡  
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Eddie crumpled within a few steps, covering his face with his hands, shaking so harshly he kept losing his shape entirely. He couldn't maintain himself when he was so many all at once. He flickered between so many and so little Ophelia couldn't keep up.

With a wet pop he dissolved into a puddle on the dark shores, before reforming. He reshaped himself slowly but surely becoming a mirror image of Ophelia. He looked up from his hands at her, eyes glassed over mouth open in a soundless scream. For all the voices he could not manage to speak now.

He mimed a throat slitting motion rising from where he sat on the ground, slowly coming towards her. Meat rippled like water, opening wide as bone became teeth. 

He would grant her peace where she had not granted him as such.


End file.
